


Squid Pro Quo

by VagrantWriter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe-Mermaids, Awkward body exploration, Crack, Fanart, Implied/Referenced Gore, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Nudity, Pining, Possible ruining of childhood, The Author Regrets Nothing, masturbation jokes, what is this I don't even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4389275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagrantWriter/pseuds/VagrantWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> "The only way to get what you want is to become a human yourself."</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"Can you do that?"</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"My dear, sweet child, that's what I do. It's what I live for, to help unfortunate merfolk like yourself. Poor souls with no one left to turn to."</i>
</p><p>A most unholy union of Disney's <i>The Little Mermaid</i> and aSoIaF/GoT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...this happened. I have a perfectly good excuse, I promise. You see...I was bored.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to leave comments or concrit, and thanks for reading.
> 
> Edited screencap from [here](http://i0.wp.com/caps.pictures/198/9-tlm/full/little-mermaid-1080p-disneyscreencaps.com-5043.jpg).

 

 

“Well, don’t just lurk in the doorway. Come in.”

Theon heard the voice and immediately a chill went down his spine. Maybe Asha was right. Maybe this was a bad idea. But he’d come too far and it wasn’t like he could go back, so he swam from out of the shadows.

The sorcerer’s cavern was high and wide, and the walls were illuminated with the phosphorescent glow of hundreds of crawling, slithering things. There were nooks carved out here and there, not unlike Theon’s own hidden grotto where he stored the surface things he collected. Only instead of books and jewelry and paintings, this library contained nothing but sharp objects: knives, hooks, harpoons. It seemed Ramsay was a collector himself.

“So…little Prince Theon has decided to pay me a visit.” A shadow detached itself from the wall. A large shape, a mass of tentacles, pale skin and sharp teeth. Theon flinched away, but one of the tentacles wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back. “Don’t be frightened. You came to me for help, didn’t you?”

Theon nodded, but he didn’t like looking into this man’s eyes. The frightening tales he’d heard as a child didn’t really do the man justice; the sorcerer was cold to the very soul. His eyes searched out Theon’s warmth and sought to drain it away.

The tentacle around his wrist jerked him forward. “And I intend to help you. But first, am I correct in assuming daddy doesn’t know you’re here?”

Theon kept his eyes on the cavern floor. “He wouldn’t care.”

“Probably not,” Ramsay conceded. He released Theon’s wrist and sank back onto the only bit of furnishing in the cavern—a long, low block that Theon could only call an altar. “So, tell me what brings Prince Theon to my little abode.”

Theon took a deep breath of water. He was so shaken that he’d nearly forgotten why he’d come here, perhaps even against his better judgement. “Is it true what they say?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific. _They_ say a lot of things, don’t they?”

“Can you…?” Theon looked around. It was a nervous habit, built from years of watching over his shoulder to make sure his father wasn’t listening. “I want to be a human.”

Ramsay gave a sharp, barking laugh. “Why would you _want_ to?”

Theon felt his face grow warm.

Ramsay waved his hands dismissively. “Never mind that. Not my place to question what a client wants or why. Though I don’t suppose it has anything to do with those rumors of you saving a human’s life so recently?”

Theon’s face grew warmer. So, the rumors had spread even out here? Except they weren’t really rumors, because rumors weren’t unequivocally true. His father had been furious when he’d found out. Mer-people were supposed to drag humans to their death, not save them from a watery grave. Not swim them back to shore. Not fall in love with them.

When Balon had asked what had compelled him to do such a thing, Theon had muttered a non-reply of, “I don’t know.” Let his father think it was pity, not a far greater weakness.

Asha alone knew that he’d been watching the Greenlander prince from afar for years, pining for the boy who would come down to the tide pools and kick his feet in the water. The boy with the gentle smile that was so alien and yet so enticing. The first surface thing Theon had ever collected had been the boy’s pendant, when he’d leaned too far over the rock side and the chain had slipped over his neck. Theon could have returned it, of course, but for the next few days, it brought the boy back to search the depths for his lost treasure. And so Theon held onto it, even after the boy stopped searching for it.

He only ever saw the boy on the shore, which is why it had taken him a moment to recognize the head of red hair, its owner clinging to a bit of driftwood miles from land. There had been a shipwreck. Asha had been bragging about luring it to be dashed against the cliffs, killing every human aboard.

Not every human, it seemed.

This would be an excellent opportunity to show her up. The human was barely clinging to life. All Theon needed to do was grab his ankle and yank him under. Too bad that thought never crossed his mind. He grabbed the driftwood instead and towed it back towards shore. The boy— _his_ boy, and not so much a boy anymore—was delirious the entire time, even as Theon pried him from his makeshift raft and pulled him into the shallow water.

“You…” His boy had reached out for him, caressing his face. “Who…are you?”

His hands were so warm and unlike anything Theon had felt before. He needed to pull away now or he’d never be able to.

His boy whined and tried to hold on. “Stay with me?”

“I can’t,” Theon answered.

“At least tell me your name.”

There was power in names, an essence and identity contained within spoken words to bind a thing to its name. Every mer-person knew this. And it was the only reason Theon hesitated until he heard his own name hissed at him from behind. He turned to find Asha drifting just past the tide line, glaring dangerously at him. She’d seen everything. So, that was how Balon had found out, and how Theon had been disgraced and banished, though he suspected Asha hadn’t meant for things to turn out this way.

Ramsay seemed to read all of this and more in Theon’s silence. “Ah,” he said knowingly. “Well, that’s not my place to judge. In answer to your question, yes. I can make you a human.”

Theon felt his chest constrict in something like relief. So, it was possible, just as Asha had said, though in the same breath she’d warned him not to go to the sorcerer. His prices were “too steep.” As if Theon had anything left to lose. He was so hopeful that he looked up, finally meeting those glassy-cold eyes.

“Legs and everything,” Ramsay said with a broad grin. “It’s a tricky spell, and not one that comes cheap.”

The price. Theon didn’t have anything to lose, but neither did he have anything to give. Nothing aside from the surface things he’d collected over the years. As Ramsay seemed to be a collector as well, maybe they could barter. “I can give you…I have gold and—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What would I even do with gold?” Ramsay sprang up from his spot so quickly that Theon didn’t have time to flinch away. It wasn’t tentacles but rather Ramsay’s slimy hands that came to rest on his shoulders, drawing him near. “What I want from you is something much more special. Something only you can give me. A…quid pro quo, if you will.”

Theon didn’t like this. He felt trapped, and Ramsay’s skin was so cold that it burned wherever it touched. “What…do you want?”

“What I want from you is…” Ramsay paused for effect. “Your name.”

“My name?” Theon balked. “But I—”

“You won’t have any need for it once you’re a human,” Ramsay interrupted him again. “Besides, your daddy’s practically already revoked your right to it, hasn’t he?” He chuckled to himself.

“What do you want with my name?”

“I want to add it to my collection. You see, I’m a collector of names…among other things.”

Theon looked at the knives on the walls again. Ramsay must take very good care of them, as there wasn’t a hint of rust to any of them and their blades were so sharp that they glittered under the cavern’s living lights. He wasn’t sure he wanted to give his name away, especially not to this man. He wanted time to think about it, but the look on Ramsay’s face said he didn’t have long to do so.

“It’s your call, of course,” he replied with a shrug, releasing Theon as if he were suddenly disgusted with him. “I’ve given you my price, and if it’s not what you’re willing to pay…”

Theon bit his lip. Ramsay was right, of course. His father had as good as taken his name anyway. _No human-lover will call himself my son_. And maybe…maybe when he was a human, he could get a new name. A new name for a new life. That way there would be no trace of Theon the merman when he was reunited with his boy. And really, what harm could Ramsay do with his name?

“I…yes, I’m willing to pay.” He squared his shoulder and approached Ramsay, even though every inch closer set his skin on edge. “My name, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

Ramsay looked over his shoulders with a smirk. “Very well. Come here.”

Theon forced himself to swim even closer, until he was sure he would simply shed his skin from the way it was crawling. He gritted his teeth as Ramsay took his jaw in hand, lifting his gaze so their eyes could meet once again.

“What do I need to do?”

“Just say your name, that’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“You might want to appreciate it. It’s the last time you’ll ever use it.”

Theon pursed his lips, took in a deep breath through his nose, and said, “Theon Greyjoy.”

It was instantaneous, like a large part of him was being drained away. He felt it leave through his parted lips and enter through Ramsay’s freezing cold eyes. They were connected for a brief second by the passing of the name, and then the moment it was over. He felt hollow and weak, like a gutted fish, and was so limp that he allowed Ramsay to lead him over to the altar.

“Good, good,” Ramsay cooed, his voice more mocking than soothing. “You’ve held up your end of the bargain. Now it’s my turn.” He laid Theon out flat on his back. The altar was not smooth but rather jagged, and it dug into his flesh. “Well, let’s get this started.”

Theon didn’t struggle until he felt tentacles wrapping around his wrists, pinning him against the slab. Something was being forced into his mouth, but he turned his head. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll want something to bite down on,” Ramsay assured him.

Theon lifted his head to give Ramsay a questioning look. Well, probably more than just _questioning_. The thing Ramsay had been trying to jam in his mouth was a wooden bit. “Wh…” His lips pursed to form the question, but he couldn’t quite get it to come out.

“I’m going to be making legs for you. But I can’t work with this.” Ramsay ran a finger along Theon’s fin. “We’ll need to cut it.”

“Cut…it?” Theon ‘s voice hitched. “Off?”

“No, silly, not off. Down the middle. Like so.” He traced with his finger until he met Theon’s hips, the place where his scales became flesh. “Snip, snip.”

Theon’s pulse pounded in his head. Splitting his tail in half? With what? His eyes flicked to the rows of knives along the wall, and suddenly he understood. “I can’t.”

“You can’t? You don’t _want_ to?” Ramsay tsk’d. “What would this human of yours say if he knew you backed down at the first hint of trouble?” He shook his head mockingly. “Oh, I should mention, I don’t give refunds. If you decide you don’t want to go through with it, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to leave empty-handed. Well, _more_ empty-handed then when you came in, at least.”

Theon whimpered. “But do you have to…cut it? You’re a sorcerer. Can’t you…use your magic?”

“That’s what I’m going to do.” Ramsay gripped Theon’s hips. “I’m going to mold your broken tail into human flesh, but the way it is now…the shape is all wrong. You’d be so repulsive that your human would be even more terrified of you.”

Theon stopped struggling in Ramsay’s grasp. He couldn’t even imagine a look of disgust on his gentle boy’s face, let alone directed at him. He wouldn’t be able to stand it.

He laid his head against the hard slab and stared resolutely up at the ceiling, where the crawling things shimmered back at him. “Do it,” he said, almost in a whisper. “Do it quick.”

He could practically hear the smirk on Ramsay’s face. “You’ll see. I’m going to make you some beautiful legs. A pert, round little ass. A pretty cock your human won’t be able to resist.”

“A what?” Theon looked up again.

Ramsay laughed at that. “You _do_ know how humans reproduce, right? They _are_ mammals, after all.”

Theon thought about that. Yes, he knew that mammals joined their bodies together to reproduce. He knew that humans craved the experience so badly that they would fling themselves overboard at the sight of a pretty mer-person. The mer-people had learned to take advantage of this strange behavior, but it must be quite exciting if humans were willing to risk their lives for a chance at it.

He laid his head back and allowed Ramsay to force the bit into his mouth.

Once he got his legs, he’d be able to experience sex as well. Perhaps even with his boy. The thought sent warm tingles rippling through his body as Ramsay gripped his tail and parted his fin. When had that bone saw appeared in his hands? Teeth flashed and Ramsay began cutting in with the saw. It stung, but that was just the thin webbing of his fin. If he couldn’t stand this, he wouldn’t be able to stand when Ramsay actually started cutting. And if he couldn’t stand that, he didn’t deserve his legs or his boy. He didn’t deserve anything. He closed his eyes.

“That’s right,” Ramsay began as the first blood was drawn and Theon clamped down on the bit. “Lie back and think of your human.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by semi-popular demand, I give you Part Two. The idea of Theon not knowing anything about sex or human anatomy was just too funny to pass up. 
> 
> Screencap edited from [here](http://i0.wp.com/caps.pictures/198/9-tlm/full/little-mermaid-1080p-disneyscreencaps.com-5859.jpg).
> 
> This is all fluff, by the way.

 

When he woke up, his cheek was pressed into rough sand and he felt very heavy. He opened his eyes, lifted his head, and took his first breath of air. Oxygen filled his lungs, and when he breathed out, no stream of bubbles followed, only a dry sigh.

Everything below his waist was numb but quickly tingling to life, and he used his elbows to prop himself up to see. He caught a first glimpse of his legs, long and pale and covered in sand. Knobby knees. Lean calves. Slender ankles. It was all perfect.

Gaining a bit more confidence, he sat up. He had to feel, but his feet were so far away and his legs were not as flexible as his tail had been, so he began at his waist.

The first remarkable thing was that he seemed to have gained a new hole in his stomach, a small indent that tickled when he poked at it. He wondered what it was for. Must be a mammal thing.

Next he ran his palms along his hips, which were generally the same width but now smooth like the rest of his skin, no longer rough and scaly. Around back, there was a crease where his legs came together, where his legs were most fleshy. There was something between the crease, something sensitive that flinched when he prodded at it with his fingers, so he decided to leave it be for the moment.

His hands moved downwards, over his thighs and between his legs, where he now had coarse hair. There was a new appendage there; definitely a mammal thing. That was how they joined for sex. This thing went into your partner, and your partner’s thing went…where? Maybe the hole in his stomach. That had to be what that was for.

He went on, moving his hands down his thighs until he reached his knees. They were bony, though the undersides were soft. They only bent one way, and not especially far. It seemed almost impractical. Not that he was complaining, but it would definitely take time to get used to this new, limited mobility.

Beyond his knees, his legs tapered down so that his whole hand could nearly encircle his ankles. He took his time, feeling every bone and tendon, the various nooks and crannies. When his fingers slid tentatively to his feet—he was now practically bent double at the waist, and his new knees did not seem to like this position—something else remarkable happened: His toes twitched.

He stopped momentarily. Then he twitched them again, on purpose this time, just to see if he could.

He could.

When he told his toes to wiggle, they obeyed. This emboldened him. He flexed his entire foot, then made circling motions with his ankles. It was odd, like growing two extra hands. So, that was where all the articulation went. He brought one of his knees to his chest so that he could set his foot flat in the sand, where he could watch all the little parts move as he rocked it back and forth steadily. A particularly large wave broke upon the beach, causing the sand to run between his toes as it receded. The bottoms of his feet were not as sensitive as the palms of his hands, but they still tickled at the sensation and he grinned giddily.

“Are you alright?” The roar of the ocean was so loud that he hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone on the little strip of sand until he heard the voice behind him.

His head whirled around to see a human standing some feet away, a look of uncertainty on his face. It was the boy with the red hair. Theon knew him right away, and he saw recognition flash in his boy’s blue eyes. A brief pause filled the space between them as they locked eyes.

“It’s you.” The boy drew nearer and reached out, hesitantly. “I mean, it _is_ you, isn’t it?”

Theon blinked. He wanted to reach out for his boy as well, but his waist wouldn’t twist any farther. He ended up flipped over on his stomach in the sand as another wave broke over him. His mouth was flooded with the taste of saltwater, which had never bothered him before but now had him sputtering and spitting.

The boy ran to his side and pulled him up to his knees. “Are you alright?” he repeated his initial question.

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “I’m…”

“You’re wet, you’re shivering…you’re naked.” The boy grasped his shoulders and knelt down, even though doing so ruined his pant legs with sand and water. “What happened? Last I saw you…” He paused and furrowed his brow. “No,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “No, that was a dream. I’m sorry. You just looked so familiar. For a second I thought…” He shook his head. “Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

“I’m not hurt,” he answered.

“Are you sure? Can you stand?”

Could he stand? He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Here, lean on me.”

He stood for the first time with his arm around his boy’s shoulder. His feet didn’t want to seem to work just yet, and he could tell that his weight was a great burden on his boy. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, even though he really wasn’t. He was too busy enjoying the warmth of being body-to-body with a human. It felt like being filled after such a long time of being empty. He wanted more of it and secretly hoped his boy would never let go. He wouldn’t even mind if it meant his legs would never actually work the way they were supposed to.

His boy shook his head. “I’ll help you to the castle.” He nodded with his chin towards the looming shape down the beach, made of weathered stone. “We have a doctor there who can patch you up.” They began walking inland, a creature with two legs that worked and two legs that didn’t. “Oh, I’m Robb, by the way.”

“I’m…” He stopped short. He didn’t know who he was. There was a name at the tip of his tongue, but it didn’t seem to want to come out.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you remember?”

Of course he _remembered_. He just didn’t know what he was called.

He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

“That’s alright,” Robb assured him. “You’re here now, and that’s what’s important.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third installment. Someone stop this crazy train.
> 
> Anyway, I've been busy working on some original stuff, but I do plan to have a more serious fic started by the end of the month. More Thramsay, more Throbb. It's all good.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

“Robb, your friend is really weird,” Arya noted casually as she prodded her breakfast.

Sansa, seated to her right, went rigid. “Arya!” she hissed. “That’s not polite.”

“What? It’s true.”

Their eyes met in challenge.

“You talk about how weird he is all the time when you know he’s not around.” Arya flicked a bit of oatmeal at her sister. “You call him that freaky fish guy.”

Robb looked up from his bowl, and Sansa shot him an apologetic look from across the table. “He’s a little weird,” she admitted.

“I saw him combing his hair with a fork the other day.” Arya snorted. “Probably the one Sansa’s using now.”

“Shut up, you brat!”

“Guys, could you keep it down?” Robb finally spoke up. “Just because Pyke’s a little strange in the head doesn’t mean he can’t hear us.” His eyes rolled to the ceiling, where the sounds of splashing water had been going nonstop for the past hour. The man certainly liked his baths, even long after any sane person would have grown cold and gotten out. “He must have bumped his head pretty hard to forget his name, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s…a little weird.”

“Bumped his head or swallowed too much sea water?” Arya said under her breath.

“Enough of that,” Robb scolded mildly. “Pyke is our guest.”

“Another thing, why must we call him Pyke?” Sansa asked, though she was busy wringing the oatmeal out of her hair. “That can’t be his real name.”

“It’s not, but he won’t tell me his real name.” Robb leaned his elbow on the table and his cheek in against the palm of his hand. “He says that Pyke is what they use to call people who have no name where he’s from.”

“But he doesn’t know where that is?”

Robb shrugged helplessly.

Pyke was a special kind of frustration. Robb had had to teach him how to dress himself, and he still left the correct clothes laid out on the guest room bed in case Pyke tried to wear one of Sansa’s dresses again. There were lots of things Pyke didn’t understand and many ways in which he was a child. But in others ways, he was quite sophisticated. He was a great conversationalist, for one, and picked up on social cues quickly. He had a nice smile, and his face lit up with wonder whenever Robb showed him something new. It was difficult not to be charmed by him.

More splashing from upstairs and Arya rolled her eyes. “He’s probably playing with his thing again.”

Sansa’s eyes bulged. “Arya!”

Robb felt himself flushing. That had been an uncomfortable encounter and an uncomfortable ensuing conversation. He tried to cover his embarrassment by scolding, “Arya, that’s enough.”

She rolled her eyes again and sank lower in her chair. “At least he sticks to doing it in his own room now.”

Sansa tried to recover the situation by folding her hands delicately on the table in front of her. “What are your plans for today, dear brother?”

“I’m going to show Pyke around Winter Town, see if we can find anything to jog his memory.”

Sansa smiled thinly at him. “You certainly spend a lot of time with him.”

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, he requires…a certain amount of looking after.”

“You could always have one of the servants take care of it.”

It wasn’t the first time someone had suggested that, but it didn’t feel right to Robb. So far, Pyke had taken in everything eagerly, but it was only around Robb that his eyes ever lit up with recognition. Robb couldn’t understand it, and sometimes, looking into Pyke’s eyes, he felt a stab of familiarity himself. It couldn’t be, though.

The sounds of footsteps on the stairwell brought their attention to Pyke’s grand appearance for the day. His hair was still wet from his hour-long bath, but he was dressed dapperly in some of Robb’s spare clothes. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was the perfect charming gentleman come to call.

“Good morning, Pyke,” Sansa greeted first. “How did you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you. The beds here are so soft. What did you say they were stuffed with again?”

“Feathers,” Robb offered.

It was clear the word held no meaning for Pyke, who simply smiled politely.

“Are you…um, ready to go?” Robb asked, feeling awkward.

Pyke’s smile went from reserved and polite to downright radiant. “Yes, of course.”

Robb stood and came over to Pyke, standing at the foot of the stairs. He linked their arms together, since Pyke was still given to falling over on occasion. “Then let’s go. I’ll have the carriage come around to pick us up.”

As they parted, arm-in-arm, Robb chanced a glance over his shoulder at his sisters. Arya was rolling her eyes again and Sansa gave them a delicate farewell wave. She had a knowing smile on her face.

 

***

 

“You know, I feel really bad not knowing your name,” Robb said, and suddenly Pyke’s attention was no longer on the cobblestones under the carriage wheels but directly on him. That was the thing. No matter how fascinating Pyke found anything, he never seemed to find anything quite as fascinating as Robb. He sat up straight and took his seat at the back of the carriage, hands folded in his lap, probably the way he’d seen Sansa do. His gaze was unflinching and earnest. “You just don’t look like a…Pyke doesn’t really suit you.”

Pyke shrugged. “Maybe you could find something that suits me?”

Robb raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? You’d let me?”

“I’m sure I’d love whatever name you’d like to give me.” He edged forward in his seat eagerly. “Go ahead.”

Robb leaned back and Pyke sidled up next to him, closer than was strictly acceptable between two men. The driver didn’t look back or even notice, and for a moment the only sound was the horses’ hooves clopping against the road into Winter Town.

Robb knitted his eyebrows in concentration and studied Pyke. His dark hair, his bright eyes, his expectant smile. “Hmm….to me, you look like you could be a…Walder?”

Pyke scowled at that.

“No? Raynald?”

Pyke shook his head again.

“Yeah, never mind. You’re not a Raynald. I feel like your name has a long ‘e’ in it. Like sea…” He drew the vowel out. “Seymore?” he suggested at last.

Pyke just shrugged again.

“Yeah, that’s not quite right either. But it’s close. I know it.”

The horses came to a stop. Robb stepped down and helped Pyke out. Winter Town was busy today with fishermen and fishmongers hawking their wares. Down in the harbor, buoys clanged and seagulls let out intermittent squawks. If Pyke came from a seafaring place, surely something here would bring back memories of it.

Robb took Pyke’s shoulder and gently steered him towards the marketplace. “Anything look familiar?”

Pyke pulled away from him towards one of the booths selling crabs in buckets. He passed by the crabs and bent down next to the traps piled by the side of the stand. “Nets,” he said, prodding at them. “My father warned us to stay away from them.”

“Us?”

Pyke blinked as if his mind had been in some far-off place. “It’s nothing. I don’t have a father.”

That worried Robb. There was something Pyke wasn’t telling him.

“Let’s go down to the marina,” he suggested, helping Pyke back to his feet. “Do you like ships?”

“I’ve never been on a ship.”

“Really?” Robb asked, though that seemed impossible.

Up until then, he’d assumed Pyke had fallen overboard in a storm, though that wouldn’t exactly account for his state of undress when Robb has found him. Maybe he’d fallen from a cliff, like the one where Winterfell’s lighthouse stood overlooking the harbor. Perhaps he’d wandered out in the middle of the night and hit his head against the rocks, which would explain why his brain seemed to be so addled. But there hadn’t been any blood on him when Robb had found him, no wounds. He really seemed to have simply materialized out of the sea.

“In that case, let’s take a look,” he said as they followed the gangplank down to the marina. “All ships have names. Maybe we’ll find yours on one of them, eh?”

They were mostly dinghies with a few oceangoing vessels moored along the dock. The whole place smelled fishy, like a perpetual low tide, though it wasn’t anything that bothered Robb. He’d always preferred the smell of salt and rock, had ever since he was a child wandering the beach alone. The boats were brightly colored, as were the men loading and unloading fishing equipment from their hulls. They all had women’s names painted across their sterns, and Robb found himself searching for something more neutral for Pyke’s new name.

“Sea Urchin?” he suggested, seeing the name on a blue fishing boat.

“Urchins aren’t very smart,” Pyke noted. “And they complain all the time.”

What? Okay, whatever. Not Sea Urchin, then.

“Cliff? Salt Cliff?” That was written in fussy letters on a large trawler.

Pyke seemed to seriously think about that one. Maybe Robb’s theory about him falling from a cliff was correct if he responded to that. In the end, though, he smiled blankly and said, “Maybe.”

No good. He needed to have a stronger reaction than that.

Robb looked around the marina again. Some nagging thought continued to tell him that Pyke’s real name had a long ‘e’ in it, but he couldn’t think of why that would be. There was a private sailboat coming in to dock, and as it came broadside, Robb caught sight of the name.

“Rheon?” he suggested.

Pyke’s head snapped up at that.

“Rheon?” Robb repeated. “You like that?”

Pyke’s eyebrows came together. “It’s…close, I think.”

“Admiring my boat?”

Robb and Pyke turned to see a man standing on the deck of the sailboat, hand clasped in the rope rigging. A genial smile played at his lips. He was surprisingly attractive, but also surprisingly short. He eyed them for a second before hopping down and starting to tie the boat off.

“Yes…fine boat,” Robb said.

“Well, if the great Robb Stark thinks so, I suppose I shall have to take that as a compliment.”

“Oh? You know me?”

The man made deft motions as he tied off the boat. Obviously someone used to tying knots. He turned to Robb and Pyke with that same grin stretching his face. “Of course. And I also know your companion there.”

At Robb’s side, Pyke went completely rigid.

“You know him?” Robb asked. Perhaps this was someone who had been out looking for Pyke.

“Oh yes,” the man said. “He’s my manservant. I’ve been looking for him ever since he ran away a little over a week ago.” Pyke huddled behind Robb. “I’m so glad I’ve found you, Reek.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screencap edited from [here](http://i0.wp.com/caps.pictures/198/9-tlm/full/little-mermaid-1080p-disneyscreencaps.com-8141.jpg)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exciting conclusion! Who will claim Theon as their waifu?
> 
> Screencap edited from [here.](http://i0.wp.com/caps.pictures/198/9-tlm/full/little-mermaid-1080p-disneyscreencaps.com-8382.jpg) (Warning, Ariel looks super derpy.)

 

Robb angled himself between Pyke and the man who was clearly Ramsay in disguise. “Do you know this man, Pyke?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Pyke began to shake his head, but Ramsay burst out laughing. “ _Pyke_? Is that what he’s been calling himself?” He chuckled and shook his head, like you would at a child who’d said something cutely stupid. “His name is _Reek_ and he’s my manservant. Indentured servant, I should say. He’s offered to serve me in return for…opening some opportunities to him.” He tsk’d and wagged his finger disapprovingly. “That’s no good, Reek, trying to get out of paying your debt.”

“It’s not true.” Pyke grabbed hold of the back of Robb’s jacket. “I’ve never seen this man in my life.” Which was true in a way. He’d never seen _this_ man or the face Ramsay was wearing.

Robb turned slowly and pried Pyke’s hands from his jacket, at the same time encircling him protectively with his arms. “If it’s true, I assume you have some proof,” he directed at Ramsay. “A contract? A decree?”

“Oh, of course.” Ramsay reached into courier’s tote slung over his shoulder and produced a bit of parchment. “It’s all there in black ink.”

Robb unfolded it and started to read. Pyke peered over his shoulder, hoping to catch of glimpse of this letter. What could it possibly say?

“Ramsay Bolton of the Dreadfort,” Robb read softly. He looked up. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t have. Not many people have.”

Robb scratched his head. “This…looks official. Let me look at it a minute.”

As he turned and brought the print closer to his face, Ramsay grabbed Pyke’s arm and pulled him forward. “While you do that, let me have a word with my manservant.” Pyke struggled against him, but he leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Don’t fight me, _Theon Greyjoy_.” And for some reason, that took all the resistance out of him. He allowed himself to be pulled to the side, in the shadow of Ramsay’s boat.

“Why are you doing this?” Pyke asked.

“Because I can.”

“I can’t go with you. I’m a human now.”

“So I’ll change you back. Or maybe I’ll keep you like this.” He grasped Pyke’s hips roughly. “You can be my little land servant.”

Pyke shook his head. “No, I won’t.”

“You don’t have a choice.” He leaned in closer and whispered wetly in Pyke’s ear, “I own your name. That means I own _you_.”

Pyke felt his warm human blood running cold for the first time.

“Your name is whatever I want it to be now, Reek.” He shook Pyke roughly. “And since I can do whatever I want with it, I took the liberty of signing an indentured servant’s contract. Your human will find everything quite legal, and he’ll have no choice but to hand you over into my custody. So I hope you enjoyed your little time of freedom with him, because you won’t be seeing him for a while.”

Pyke whimpered pathetically. He was taller than this Ramsay; he should be able to tear free, run back to Robb for protection. Hell, he should be able to take this pipsqueak on himself. And yet he was helpless. Was it because Ramsay owned his name or because the sorcerer was just that good at sapping his courage? He’d never been courageous to begin with. The bravest thing he’d ever done in his life was saving Robb.

Pyke heard the crinkling of paper being folded and Robb’s boots clicking against the planks of the dock. “Mr. Bolton, I’ve looked over your document. It seems to be in order.”

A grin spread across Ramsay’s face. “Does it then? I guess we’ll be on our way. Come, Reek.”

He jerked Pyke—Reek—Theon—towards the boat.

“I didn’t say you could go, did I?” Robb demanded.

Ramsay turned, an annoyed look on his face.

“Your contract may be valid where you come from, but it doesn’t hold any sway over a citizen of Winterfell.”

Ramsay’s eyes narrowed. “What rubbish are you on about?”

“Pyke…Reek…” Robb grimaced at the name, “is a citizen of Winterfell.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Well, because he’s engaged to the Prince of Winterfell, of course.”

Pyke’s mouth dropped open as Robb got to one knee.

“I don’t…have a ring or anything, and I know it’s short notice. All I have to give you is my name, but will you marry me and become…uh, Reek Stark?”

Ramsay burst out laughing so hard that Pyke was able to pull away from him and rush into Robb’s arms. “Yes,” he said, the two of them on their knees, hands tangles in each other’s hair. “Yes, of course.”

“What? Are you serious?” Ramsay was still laughing, doubled over now. “Two men?”

“Yes, well…Reek looks very convincing in a dress,” Robb argued.

“You’re serious.” Ramsay wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes. “That is just…more entertainment than I thought I would get today. Lucky me.” He strode forward and grabbed Pyke’s hair. “Now, enough of that. Let’s go, Reek.”

At first Pyke was yanked back, but once he had his feet under him, he felt he could pull back. So he did. Ramsay was not expecting any resistance and was knocked off his feet. He landed roughly on his back with a dazed expression on his face. An expression that quickly turned to fury.

“Reek,” he said through gritted teeth, slowly getting back to his feet, “I said. Let’s. Go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Oh really?” Ramsay grinned. “ _Theon Greyjoy_.”

The pull Pyke had felt earlier was gone. As it should be. Ramsay may own _Theon Greyjoy_ , but he didn’t own Robb’s name. The name Robb had offered to share.

“What?” Robb asked, looking confused. “Who’s that? What’s that? Theon Grey-what?”

In a flash, comprehension dawned on Ramsay’s face, which contorted into seething rage. “No. You’re mine!” He launched himself at Pyke—Reek—Theon—but before his hands could wrap around his neck, Robb had moved in and given him a sharp shove that sent him over the side of the dock.

He landed with a little splash in the water.

“Robb?”

Robb wrapped his arms around him and pressed their lips together, which startled Pyke. “Pyke. Reek. I don’t care what your name is or where you came from. If you don’t want to go back there, I won’t let anyone take you.” He was trembling as he pulled back. “You’re _mine_ , you understand? If you’ll have me as well.”

“I already said I would, didn’t I?”

They were about to kiss again when suddenly someone screamed. Robb and Pyke turned as a great, big something erupted out of the water where Ramsay had fallen it. It was Ramsay. Obviously. But the other one. The one with the tentacles.

“What is that?” Robb asked, much more dully than the situation called for. He didn’t seem to believe what he was seeing because he just stood there as Ramsay wrapped a tentacle around his ankle and hoisted him into the air.

“You dumb fuck, you ruined everything!” Flecks of spittle flew from Ramsay’s mouth. “I’ll kill you!”

“Let him go.” Pyke made a grab for Robb, who was now hanging upside-down six feet in the air and still didn’t seem to know what was going on. “I’m the one you want, Ramsay. Take me.”

“I _will_ take you,” Ramsay spat. “After I kill him.” He plunged back into the water, dragging Robb with him.

It never occurred to Pyke _not_ to follow. When he dove in, he found that his human body was not nearly as good at swimming as his mer body had been. Also, there was the small fact that he couldn’t breathe underwater anymore. As water filled his mouth and nose, he continued to claw his way towards Ramsay and Robb. His human eyes weren’t doing so well with the saltwater, but he could still make out the blurry shapes: Ramsay with his many limbs and tentacles, Robb struggling desperately against said limbs and tentacles.

“This is what your precious _Pyke_ really is,” he could hear Ramsay saying. “Our kind live to watch the last minutes of your life tick away like this. To the merfolk, there’s nothing sweeter than watching the bubbles stop coming out of a human’s mouth as they choke to death.” Robb reached desperately for the surface, but another of Ramsay’s tentacles grabbed hold of his shoulders and forced him back down. “Did you know it was merfolk who lured the captain of your ship onto those rocks that night you went aground? Merfolk who killed all the sailors aboard that ship? And now you want to _marry_ one?”

Pyke opened his mouth to call out, catch Ramsay’s attention, but instead of words coming out, water rushed in to fill his lungs. He gasped and began coughing, which did catch Ramsay’s attention. He laughed.

“Not so fast, you. I don’t want you dying on me.” A thick tentacle wrapped itself around Pyke’s waist. “I have _big_ plans for— _oof_!”

He was cut off midsentence by a kick to the face. Growling, he turned to see Robb had worked his leg free and was currently bringing the thick heel of his boot down again and again on Ramsay’s nose. Blood began seeping into the water in billowing clouds, obscuring Ramsay’s vision. Pyke saw his chance. He wriggled out of Ramsay’s grasp and, bracing himself against Ramsay’s solid mass, kicked his way upwards. He propelled himself towards the surface, grabbing hold of Robb’s arm as he shot past.

The two of them broke to the surface. Blessed air filled Pyke’s lungs as, beside him, Robb sputtered and choked. He was lightheaded, but he knew Ramsay would recover quickly. “Shore,” he coughed, tugging on Robb’s arm to get him to move. “We have—”

The water under them began to roil, and more screaming from the docks filled the air. Tentacles began lashing out.

Pyke shoved Robb roughly towards the ladder leading up to the dock. “Go!” he yelled, then he was entangled in a mass of black tentacles, hugging him so tightly he couldn’t barely breathe, let alone move. Ramsay’s pale eyes peered out at him from underwater.

“Please,” Pyke begged. “Let him go. I promise I’ll go with you. Just…don’t kill him.”

“You promise, do you?” Ramsay sneered.

“I’ll give you anything you want. _Do_ anything you want.” He gasped as a tentacle made its way up his thigh, caressing him. “P-please. Robb…”

Ramsay howled and a split second later, Pyke was back in the water, free. Everything around him was red, and he had trouble finding his way upwards. When he finally broke to the surface once more, it was to the scene of Robb leaning down over the dock, hand stretched out to help Pyke up. Pyke took it and was hauled back up onto land. His clothes were soaking wet and about ten times heavier than normal. He sank to his knees and Robb knelt down to ease his fall.

“Wha…?” He looked over his shoulder to see the mass of tentacles twitching amid all the blood in the water. Ramsay had a harpoon embedded into his neck. If he wasn’t dead already, he was certainly well on his way.

“Are you alright?” Robb asked. His hand made gentle rubbing motions on Pyke’s back.

Pyke…no, that wasn’t his name. He remembered now. Theon. His name was Theon. Now that Ramsay was dead, the name could revert to its original owner.

He shuddered, doubled over, and vomited a lungful of water onto the deck. The gentle rubbing eased the burning pain in his throat, and when he was done, he looked up into the gentle, smiling eyes of Robb Stark. “’m fine,” he muttered.

“Good.” Robb looked out across the harbor to where Ramsay’s body had finally stopped twitching, then up the gangplank to where a curious and horrified crowd had gathered. “Because I have more than a few questions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join me next time for the epilogue and thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. You know, I didn't expect to write a 10,000-word "Little Mermaid" inspired fic, but now that I have, no regrets. 
> 
> Screencap edited from [here](http://i0.wp.com/caps.pictures/198/9-tlm/full/little-mermaid-1080p-disneyscreencaps.com-9072.jpg). (And yes, Theon is wearing Ariel's dress. Deal with it.)

“That was rather reckless of my brother,” Sansa sighed as she brushed out Theon’s hair. She’d insisted on doing it ever since Arya had told her about the fork incident. “I mean, not just taking on a sea monster with a harpoon, but also proposing to the first mysterious stranger that wandered into his life. Though I must say, it is rather romantic.”

Theon nodded.

“Stop wriggling,” she scolded and smacked him lightly on the top of the head with her comb. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain this all to Mother and Father when they get home from their tour of the kingdom. The stuff about mermen and mermaids, we can probably leave that out. But the other thing… Maybe we can pretend you’re a girl indefinitely. Just…be sure to wear your clothes when you’re around them.”

Theon nodded again.

Sansa sighed wistfully. “Do you really have no family to tell?”

He shook his head. “They wouldn’t come if I told them anyway. And even if…you know, they _could_.”

“That’s so…sad. I’d want my whole family to be at my wedding. Even Arya. I’d make her wear a dress.” She gave Theon’s hair one last brush and stepped back, satisfied. “Well, are you ready?”

He nodded.

He was getting better at walking on his own, but Sansa hovered by his side to make sure he didn’t fall. Together, they made their way down the stairs, through the courtyard, and out onto the beach below Winterfell Castle. The sand was soft and the water cold as it lapped against his sandals. Pebbles tumbled over each other in the surf, and one jumped up and hit him in the head.

His hand shot to the temple where he’d been struck. Flying rocks? He looked around, only to be hit in the back of the neck by another pebble. He spun around in time to see Sansa’s finger point to some position beyond the surf line. “Oh my Gods, they _are_ real.”

Despite himself, Theon grinned to see Asha readying to launch another rock at him. She had quite the throwing arm to reach the beach from where she was drifting out towards the tideline. He kicked off his sandals and waded out to greet her. “Asha, I’m getting married!”

“To your boy, I suppose?” She didn’t look too surprised.

Theon nodded. He was up to his waist in seawater by the time he reached her, completely soaking his clothes. They would be heavy when he returned to land. He probably should have thought about this more before doing it. “What are you doing here?”

She grumbled something under her breath.

“What?”

“I came to give you this.” She thrust her hand out, and for a moment Theon thought she had another pebble in her palm. On second viewing, it was actually his silver wolf pendant. Well, Robb’s wolf pendant. The one he’d lost that day when Theon had first seen him down by the tide pools. “When Dad found out you decided to turn yourself into a human, he threw a fit and pretty much destroyed all your stuff. I was able to save this, though.”

Theon reached out for it tentatively. “Thank you, Asha.”

“Don’t mention it.” She rolled her eyes. “Literally, don’t mention it. I was never here, understand?”

He nodded.

“Good. And tell your human friend to stop gawking at me. I don’t usually let humans see me and live to tell about it.”

Theon looked back to Sansa on the beach, her mouth open in utter amazement that a real life mermaid had decided to grace them with her presence.

“It will be our little secret,” he agreed.

“Good. Take care of yourself, little brother.”

“And you.”

She smiled in what might be called affection before ducking under a breaking wave and disappearing back into the ocean.

Theon waded back onto the beach clutching the pendant, his movements awkward as the loose-fitting robes now hung heavily to his body. When he reached the shore, sand clung to his wet skin. “You’ve ruined your nice clothes,” Sansa said dully, her gaze still locked on where Asha had vanished. Suddenly she blinked, as if coming back to herself. “I guess I didn’t really believe Robb’s wild story until…”

“Yeah, I think I’ve done a lot of damage to my people’s reputation. Maybe you could say that my sister at least _tried_ to drag you into the ocean to kill you?”

She stared at him.

He shrugged.

She turned and stared straight down the beach, as if blocking out the ocean altogether. “Well, no time to change now,” she said, shifting gears. “We better get going.”

They continued down the beach, Theon dragging his train through the surf. As they rounded the cliff side, the party came into view. It was mostly just Robb’s other sister and younger brothers, a few of the servants from the castle, and the maester (who had agreed to perform the ceremony in lieu of a Septon), all of whom applauded softly as a soaking wet Theon came down the aisle guided by a shell-shocked Sansa.

Theon’s sight was locked on the podium where Robb stood dressed in his best clothes. He looked so handsome, red hair flashing in the light, eyes trained not on Theon’s ruined clothes but on his face. There was softness there, a genuine warmth and affection. For a few days after the proposal, Theon had worried that Robb had done what he’d done strictly out of obligation. When he’d voiced his concerns, Robb had taken his face in his hands and said, “That horrible sea monster is dead. I’m no longer any under _obligation_ to do this.” And then he’d laid Theon out on his bed and shown him how mammals joined together.

Turned out your thing didn’t go in your partner’s stomach, but rather their mouth? That had been really funny to Theon and so backwards-sounding. At least until he’d felt it. He’d never felt anything so wonderful in his life and Robb had finished promising to do it again and maybe even show him how _else_ sex worked. So you could put your thing multiple places? What a brave new world.

Robb smiled now and held out his hand for Theon to take. Sansa let him go and he joined Robb up on the podium before the maester. “You look…” Robb eyed him up and down, taking in his sopping clothes, his sand-covered feet. “Well, you look how I first remember seeing you.”

Theon fiddled with the pendant still between his fingers before pushing it into Robb’s hands. “You too,” he said.

Robb opened his palm to see what Theon had given him. It took a second or two, but when he realized what it was, his eyes widened in recognition. He kept looking from the pendant to Theon and back. “This is mine,” he said. “I lost it in the ocean years ago. I never thought I’d see it again. Where did you find it?”

Theon smiled coyly. “Sorry I didn’t return it sooner.”

Robb’s jaw went slightly slack. “How long have you _known_ me, Theon?”

“Too long?” Theon leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Robb’s unresisting lips. “Not long enough?”

Robb dropped the pendant in the sand and wrapped his arms around Theon’s neck to pull him in for a deeper kiss. He could faintly hear Arya making a gagging sound and Sansa wailing, “Wait ‘til the end of the ceremony,” but he preferred to let the world fade out around them. It was just the two of them. Him and his boy. All he’d ever wanted, and worth it to have his tail cut in half and nearly signing his soul away to a psychotic sorcerer.

Robb finally pulled away, leaving Theon breathless. This air-breathing business was still new to him, after all. He had to lean against Robb for support, but Robb didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you ready to start?” the maester prompted.

“What do you say?” Robb said. “Are you ready, Theon Stark?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting.


End file.
